RHS Chelsea 2018 - My favourite things 1

Before I bang on again about plants, I thought I'd do a short series showcasing my favourite products from Chelsea this year. All of them have one thing in common; they have sustainability at the core of their business.

Stunning rugs, throws and cushions from Weaver Green, made from recycled plastic bottles.

The judging criteria at RHS Chelsea doesn't include anything on sustainability - odd, considering that gardens are nature, tamed. It becomes stranger every day to me, that this professed love of nature should be accompanied by such a head-in-the-sand approach to the mountains of single-use plastics within the industry, along with toxic rivers of insecticides and herbicides (also encased in single-use plastics. 

It's not up to the RHS, or any other large organisation to lead the way in reducing waste though. The power is with each of us, making everyday choices which align with our values; if we want to see the gardening industry (and the rest of the world) changing its ways in this respect, then it is in our gift to vote with our feet and our wallets. Sustainability begins at home.

There are businesses out there though, who are making it easier for us to do this. Whilst I wait and dream of a nationwide plastic-free compost delivery service for those of us who don't make enough of it at home, here is the first of my favourite things from Chelsea this year. 

Weaver Green rugs

When I walked onto this stand and touched these rugs and throws, I fell in love with them instantly. Imagine how thrilled I was then to be told that they were made entirely of thousands old plastic bottles that would have ended up in the ocean. I am smitten. The colours are soft and receding and they basically look like they've been there forever, which is what you WANT (or at least that's what I want) Oh, and guess what, moth larvae, house dust mites, and mould have absolutely no interest in these products either. Needless to say, I bought one of their beautiful runners immediately, and will be investing in a couple of other rugs for outside, because yes, these things are outdoor friendly and machine washable.

Weaver Green is the brainchild of Tasha and Barney, who spotted a fishing rope used to tether boats on one of their trips to Asia, and, inspired by this discovery, tasked themselves with creating the softest, comfiest textiles possible using single-use plastic bottles. They ended up with a product that works on so many levels - not only is does it give new life to discarded plastic bottles, but it also looks and feels exquisite. People like Tasha and Barney make me feel hopeful and happy.

x Laetitia

RHS Chelsea 2018: Ideas to steal

Wafty and romantic.

I know I sound like a fashion journalist (and that's NOT what you're here for) but bear with me when I use the words 'key' and 'trend' in the same sentence, and tell you that all things floaty and romantic had the upper hand this year at Chelsea. It was as if someone had sent out a secret decree that forbade hard lines (straight or curved) in the planting on the show gardens. Even the topiary balls were shaggy. It screams laid back laziness and I LOVE it.

Achieving this look requires doing LESS rather than more (hurrah!) but you do have to be careful that your organised, purposeful wafty haven doesn't descend into ACTUAL overgrown chaos.

Here are a few sensible shortcuts

1. Use grasses. See-through. Sensual.  I don't need to spell it out. 

Briza maxima in Matt Keightley's Feel-Good Garden

2. Use water. It makes light move and glitter and pirouette. It bestows SPARKLE.

Trickles and dancing light in Sarah Price's Mediterranean haven for M&G

You don't have to have lots of time or money to put water in your garden. Although there's no doubt that movement creates magic, you can start off with a  large bowl (Waterside Nursery do purpose-built ones made of fibreglass, or you can use a glazed pot with the drainage hole blocked; (you don't even need to put plants in it...just water will do). 

3. Be intentionally lazy.

Leave your seed-heads standing - all those beauteous brown things that made winter just about bearable can have a different effect in summer...I'm really surprised how much I love this look; I would never have dreamt of doing it until I saw it yesterday. There's a poignancy to this bit of brown dead stuff that tugs at my heart strings. It's a reminder that life is messy, and beautiful, and complicated, and that we all carry the brown spiky bits inside of us all the time. There is also an elegant nonchalance to it - no primping or preening here.

Teasel seed-heads in Kate Crome's Epilepsy garden

And again here - same but different - the charred remains of plant material from the South African fynbos. The black is almost sculptural against that zingy orange. I'm won over.

Fynbos landscape on Jonathan Snow's South African Wine Estate for Trailfinders

4. Embrace shaggy.

It's an aesthetic that says "I'm far too busy living my life for all this clipping". On many of the show gardens, small balls of Pittosporum tobira 'nanum' were as smart as it got. The hard landscaping was left to do all the work of providing a foil to a mass of foliage. This really does still work, providing an alternative to box or yew, or any of their close-clip-friendly pals. Watch out though, before you purchase - this stuff is not fully hardy and you may need to fleece it in a hard winter. A well-tended Sarcococca confusa, which can be clipped into shaggy balls, or even yew, allowed to get a bit away from itself will be much less hassle for those who don't want the bother of worrying about frost.

x Laetitia

A Jekyll Idyll

You need to go and visit this beautiful garden. It's called Upton Grey, and belonged to a certain Charles Holme, who had the foresight to get Gertrude Jekyll to design his garden in 1908. All these pictures were taken by me, yesterday, and they typically show all the little details that I fell in love with. For an overall view of the garden, and pictures of the borders in full bloom (oh, the HOLLYHOCKS!!!, go to the website here.

Cut to decades later and the house and garden, having changed hands many times, have gone to rack and ruin, only to be discovered, bought, and lovingly restored by the legend who is Rosamund Wallinger, and her brilliant husband John.

Box, santolina, and lawn paths for days

As soon as she realised that the foundations of a Jekyll garden lay at her feet, she set about resurrecting it with fierce, uncompromising accuracy.

Bantams, pecking about

The result is the only living example of an original Jekyll garden. Every tree, shrub, perennial and bulb is there as she stipulated on her plans.

Chives lining your walk

It is extraordinary, and needs shouting about, not only because of the Jekyll angle, but also because this is the work of one woman over three decades and as well as peonies and dry stone walls, it exudes determination, and commitment and passion.

Orchard with mown paths of love

The fact that Rosamund knew zilch about gardening when she began this whole thing did not deter her. In fact it was a blessing, as it allowed her to get fascinated, to read, to ask questions, to dive right in, and put one foot in front of the other, without being burdened by the knowledge of the monumental task ahead of her.

Dry stone wall beauty

She learned from many mistakes and has emerged with a deep, practical knowledge, not only of botanical theory, but of real, practical horticulture.

Pond glory

So when you think to yourself "I can't make a garden... I don't know anything about plants", just look at this, and know that yes, you can make a garden, or a green space, or a floriferous windowsill, or a burgeoning allotment;

Ships rope, swagged between arbour and pergola posts

...all you need is the willingness to have a go, and the ability to get excited, rather than overwhelmed by your mistakes.

Can you tell I enjoyed myself?

xx Laetitia

Clearing pond algae

Pesky but inevitable: Pond algae

It's hard to think of any truly exquisite garden that does not have water. It will always be the thing that completes an outdoor space, as well as the very best way to bring wildlife into the garden. As with all good things though, there must be a down-side, and in this case it is that any pond is only really a bog-garden in the making.

It’s the time of year when algae begins its assault – warmer weather and anything but the perfect chemical balance means that most of us either have water that looks like green soup, or that its surface is covered with the stuff (like my pond, above). No short-term solution is full-proof, but manually removing any blanket weed using a pole is a good start. A submerged bag of barley straw will help to prevent growth, and if you don’t mind your water being black, then a pond dye is a real option as it prevents photosynthesis. In essence though, an algae-free pond is all about achieving a delicate balance; and long-term, the solution is to ensure that any water added to your pond or pool is rainwater (I know, not always possible), that clippings, fallen leaves, mowings and compost are kept out of it, and prevented from adding nutrients, and that it has a modicum of shade. Achieving the right amount of oxygen, nutrient levels and light, is a continual project; your oasis of water will always be a work in progress.

Garden furniture of dreams

Summer IS coming...

SWEAR!

Here are a few things that have caught my eye recently...

Click on the image for info

Summer bulb bounty

Summer-flowering bulbs often get lost in the rush of March and April when there’s so much to do in the garden, but it’s a real shame to miss out on these beautiful and useful plants that often bridge that awkward gap between summer and autumn where everything seems to be crisping up and dying a death. My first choice is always Gladiolus callianthus (sometimes called Acidanthera) – a perfect white thing with a gorgeous deep maroon blotch in its centre. I plant masses in pots and they never fail. The scent is indescribable so I won’t even go there; just know that you can’t possibly live without it, and go to my newsletter here for a quick and easy how-to. 

Lilies are an absolute must, and again I usually put these in tall containers and then sink them in borders if that’s where they should be. Exquisite L. regale and L. ‘Casa Blanca’ are both easy and more importantly, scented, which make them perfect on terraces and brought indoors for summer parties. 

Crocosmia are another favourite. Once planted in a sunny place (border or pot) and kept watered, they gallop off into the sunset, all guns blazing. I’m in love with brilliant red C. ‘Lucifer’ (who wouldn’t be) but if you already have him and want to be unfaithful this year, then consider C. ‘Severn Sunrise’ for its spicy orange blooms.

x Laetitia

How to get your garden sorted, by yourself. FAST.

Tis the season.

One sunny day and we’re all looking outside and wishing our gardens were how we wanted them to be.

'Come and sort my garden out!’ the messages say (or words to that effect). I get it, I really do. The sap is rising, and we just feel compelled to get it sorted, right now. Panic ensues and out of that panic, all our deep-seated fears and doubts bubble softly up to the surface. 

They generally take the form of three myths:

1. I don’t have time to do this myself. 

Do you have time to scroll? If you have time to scroll, then you have time for your outdoor space. All it takes is five minutes a day.

1. I don’t know enough to do this myself

Are you a sentient human being? Are you open to a learning experience? Then you can do this.

1. I don’t have ‘green fingers'

Green fingers don’t exist. It’s about becoming interested enough. We become interested when we actually DO stuff. 

Okay. Now for the reason you clicked on this post:

How to get your garden sorted, by yourself,  FAST.

What follows is a list, in no particular order, of things you can do right now, which will make your garden really lovely, and somewhere you’ll want to spend time in. You’ll notice that none of the things on this list is particularly planty or complicated. In fact most of these things are more to do with husbandry (outdoor tidying) than anything else. Before you begin though, remember one thing:

Start at the back door.

Don’t look beyond the first thing you see and just work on that. Do it for five minutes and then call it a day. I promise you will end up doing more, and wanting to do more.

The list:

1. Sweep. Find a broom and sweep all the paved or decked or hard bits. Terrace, paths, steps. If you have algae on your deck or paving then hire a pressure washer and clean it off. This will make the garden safe; not breaking your neck is key to enjoying your garden.
2. Mow. If you have a lawn, mowing will do more for your garden than any other single job. You can get away with murder everywhere else if you mow. Truth. SWEAR.
3. Remove. Give away or freecycle anything that’s not working for you, or spoiling your space. This could be garden furniture, but more specifically, I’d advise you to get rid of any flower pots smaller than 40cm diameter. Too many pots or containers, particularly if they are small ones, will not only increase the workload (watering, tending etc) but also look hectic. A small number of large pots is less work and looks immeasurably better.
4. Chop. Anything that’s dead and crispy. It’s probably last year’s shoots on a perennial plant, and if you look at the base there will be new leaves appearing. Chop the dead stuff. 
5. Weed. Anything that you know is a weed. Google common weeds and see if you can identify plants that you think shouldn’t be there. Weeding sounds boring but it’s actually really therapeutic and even fun. First, get yourself a good tool. I like the Hori Hori knife or this widger by Burgon and Ball. Or just go round the garden and tug at the weeds. Some of them, like chick weed, will just come up easily, roots and all. If you don’t have a good weeding tool right now, just go out and find weeds that you can easily remove with a tug. Other ones, like couch grass, or bindweed (google them) will need more ingenuity. Some weeds, like herb robert, are so lovely you should probably consider removing just a few. A kneeler helps too, and so does a really good podcast. Be gentle, but firm. Calm and assertive. Do one area at a time. Don’t look up. Stay focused. 
6. Feed. Put some bird food out, somewhere you can see it. Srsly. you need to see those birds, doing stuff. You need to.
7. Loiter. Spend five minutes every day in your outside space. You don’t have to do stuff, you just need to linger there (add wine if you want). You may want to provide yourself with somewhere to sit. Put your phone away. Listen. Sniff. Watch. Do I sound like I knit yoghurt? I’m not quite there yet, but I have learned that my garden provides me with something nourishing, that I like to call Vitamin G. You should try it.

That’s it for now. It's just the start. Let me know how you go. 

x Laetitia

Grasses - to chop or not to chop?

That is the question....

Ornamental grasses tend to hold on to their old dead growth , and this can become confusing for gardeners with busy lives, who often mistake evergreen for deciduous and vice-versa. There is no sure-fire way of dealing with this problem except to take a little time to identify your grasses.

If new green growth is appearing from the base of the plant then it’s probably deciduous, and this is a good time to get rid of all the dead bits. I always used to take enormous care not to cut any of the new growth, but then I saw Carol Klein merrily massacre one specimen on the telly. “It’s a grass” she said, “just like your lawn”. After that, I became altogether less tentative. Do wait though, until you can at least see some green spikes emerging from the base. Some grasses, like miscanthus and pennisetum get going rather later in the spring, and the dead growth acts as protection.

Evergreens, like carex and festuca need a little comb-through. The new growth will be just as long as the old, and all you need to do is to dispense with this by pulling your hands through the plant (wearing gloves of course, because some of these grasses have sharp edges) and the old growth should come away easily. Although this is rather more time-consuming than chopping, it has the kind of therapeutic effects that make this extra time more than worth it.

Rose pruning rules - the five minute way

Roses galore

If you haven’t pruned yet, panic not.

Just gather sharp secateurs, pruning saw, some gauntlets and a reckless attitude. If you're unsure, then it pays to be bold rather than tentative; roses really are the big bruisers of the garden and can take a proper beating, so don't be shy.

It's okay to get it wrong! You may lose some flowers, or your bush may be wonky for a bit, but who cares? It'll right itself at some point down the line, and YOU'RE LEARNING

Rush out and chop dead, diseased or dying wood, and anything spindly right down to the base on all your roses, after which, a shrub rose (a bush) simply needs all stems pruned by one third of their height. Try to cut just above a bud, but don't sweat it; your aim should be to get the thing tidy. For climbing roses, remove anything that's not going to play ball when you try to tie it into your framework, so if it's sticking out or too tough to bend to your whims, then chop it. For ramblers (climbing roses that flower only once) then take out a third of the oldest shoots. Hybrid teas (big flowers on single stems), and really overgrown monsters need razing to about 10cm above ground. Treat floribundas (many flowers on single stems) the same way, cutting higher up though, about 30cm above ground.

Finally, give them a feed after pruning with rose fertiliser. They also love a good helping of manure around their roots.

There you go. Now just do it.

Bindweed control, the five minute way.

A bit of a strange one this, that such a pernicious thing could be one of my favourite subjects, but it is. The bindweed that I have in my garden is what I would label as ‘under control’ – and that’s after ten years of dealing with it. Some years I’ve been extremely blasé about it and hardly done anything at all to control it, but others I’ve waged war. This rather slap-dash, all-or-nothing approach seems to have got it to a stage where it no longer bothers me, and the way that I garden now, in daily five minute bursts, is the very best way to ensure that it never returns to overwhelm me again.

It’s important to say here, that I’m resigned to the fact that unless I go over and weed all my neighbours’ gardens I’m never going to eliminate this weed, and I think that’s part of the answer in dealing with it. I KNOW that It’s something I have to be vigilant about.

I don’t use chemicals in my garden; the environmental and personal costs are just too high.

I have small children and I love wildlife so it’s a complete no-no. I used to use a systemic herbicide on my bindweed. It was horrible and scary to use, and although it killed the bindweed I treated, I never had enough time to get all of it, so it didn’t work long term. It takes time to coat the leaves with this horrible stuff. It takes time to massage it in. It takes time (and years off your life) to make absolutely sure that no other plants touch the bindweed that you have treated (because if they do, it’s curtains for them). Even if you don’t care a jot about using harmful chemicals, then this time factor should be enough to put you off, because in the end, regular weeding will get your bindweed problem sorted in much less time.

If you have an infestation (i.e. there is bindweed everywhere you look) then you are going to need to play the long game. Get yourself some thick polythene sheeting (you can re-use it for lots of things) and some metal pegs. Remove as much of the bindweed as you can, and then cover the entire area with at least six inches of good compost. Now cover this compost with the sheeting, pegging it down securely so that you starve the plants completely of light. Don’t despair; you can plant curcubits (squash etc) and potatoes through small holes cut in the sheeting. The pesky bindweed will manageable (if not completely gone) in a year. For more information on this technique see Charles Dowding’s No Dig book.

For common levels of bindweed (i.e. it's strangling a few shrubs), here is how I deal with it.

You need:

A widger tool – this looks like a long trowel and is the perfect thing for chasing the brittle roots through the soil

A kneeler – because you’ll be on your knees doing this

Lots of patience – a good audiobook is essential, and can turn this kind of work into a total pleasure, particularly when you end up with a large pile of white bindweed roots at the end of a session!

Method: 

Depending on the time of year, your bindweed may be scrambling over and strangling your plants. Unwind it (you’ll need to cut and un-twine at the same time) until you get to the ground. Don’t be discouraged by the number of stems. Concentrate on doing one at a time. Gently and slowly begin to chase the roots through the soil, holding the stem with one hand and using the widger to loosen the soil in the other. Be super, super gentle. You don’t want the root to break, as it will create another plant. Obviously, sometimes you just can’t help this from happening, but make it a game to get as far down the root as possible without breaking it. Sometimes you’ll get to the end of it and this is a cause for much celebration! Sometimes you won’t, and that’s okay…you’ve removed lots of the plant, and it’ll take energy and time for it to start again. If the bindweed has got itself tangled within the roots of a beloved plant, then it’s sometimes a good move to dig that plant up, wash the roots off and remove the bindweed that way. This should be a last resort though, and you can mostly keep things manageable just by removing as much as possible on a regular basis.

Here’s the good news:

Eventually, if you keep going and you don’t give up, you will weaken the plant sufficiently so that it just doesn’t bother coming back any more. That means staying open to weeding it out whenever you see a shoot. Once you’ve got that in your head, then it’s easy. SWEAR.

Messy but Marvellous: Two more amazing winter scented shrubs

As promised, and following on from my last post, here are a couple more winter scented shrubs of utter gorgeosity, but ones which you might need a little more space for...either that, or you have to NOT mind that they look a bit meh for the rest of the year. The best treatment for both of these would be to plant them in profusion (i.e. get yourself a WOODLAND) but failing that, one specimen, tucked away somewhere near to where you're going to walk is definitely the way forward. Needless to say, what these two lack in general looks, they make up for with their winter scent. Here goes:

Lonicera x purpusii 'Winter Beauty'

Lonicera x purpusii 'Winter Beauty' (Winter honeysuckle)

Gorgeous isn't it? So delicate, and the scent is out of this world - delicate, violet mixed with sweet syrupy yumminess. 

Here's the wider view though:

Pretty, arching, but needs space, and a plain, dark background.

Chimonanthus praecox

Chimonanthus praecox (Wintersweet)

I do have pictures of this when it's not looking quite so awful, but putting them up would be a misrepresentation of what you're actually getting here. THIS is what the flowers become pretty quickly, and this is what you're looking at most of the time. Eeeek but OH THE SCENT! Indescribable, delicious, sweetly floral and JUST WHAT YOU NEED on a winter day. 

...and the wider view:

Um, sort of spindly and bare... again, needs a plain dark background to help it shine, but only if your nose is blocked.

Both of these of course are totally worth it. But I would say that, wouldn't I! The truth is that I used to have both of them in my garden, but they had to go when I revamped it, as they just didn't do enough for me during the rest of the year. BUT if I had the space, wild horses wouldn't keep me from planting lots of them.

xx Laetitia

Scented shrubs for winter glamour

Scent is a massive topic in winter gardening stories, especially as it is one of the more glamorous horticultural things we gardening journalists get to ramble on about amidst a sea of chopping, planting and wrapping advice; I challenge you to find a gardening section at this time of year without its annual dose of scented winter shrubs. You lovely lot don’t necessarily gravitate towards gardening sections though, which is why I’m giving you my favourite winter scented shrubs here, in the hope that you’ll seek these out the next time you’re in a garden centre, and snap one (or all of them) up for your own space. I promise, you will not be disappointed.

Sarcococca confusa

Sarcococca confusa (Christmas box / Sweet box)

Smart, evergreen shrub that looks like nothing very much all year and then suddenly bursts forth into flower in January with tiny white flowers, which pump out the most glorious sweet scent. A couple of these in pots, flanking your front door is the way to go, and if you have the space, put some out the back as well. Incredibly tolerant of most conditions, even the dreaded dry shade. NOTHING NOT TO LOVE!

Daphne odora ‘Aureomarginata’

Daphne odora 'Aureomarginata'

Absolutely stunning pale-margined green leaves and waxy pink flowers with reflexed petals that smell like you’ve died and gone to heaven. This is the HAUTE of winter scent - it really really is. You have to be nice to it, and give it a sheltered spot with well-drained but fertile soil, but if it likes you then glory will be yours. 

Viburnum tinus

Viburnum tinus

Don’t turn your nose up and tell me it’s only for a car park…this is a true beauty – loves being clipped and preened, into lolly pops and hedges and all manner of things, and has scented flowers from December onwards. 

And if you don’t mind a bit of messy…

These above area all frightfully well-behaved plants. Next time I'll put up a couple of rather messier (but no less gloriously scented) options for those with a bit more space...stay tuned my loves...

xx

Laetitia

Five minute gardening jobs for Christmas sanity

I know I know, it’s nearly Christmas. You’ve got all that stuff STILL to do, and all that stuff STILL to buy, and everything’s just too much. I know.

It might seem odd to think of venturing out into the garden or balcony right now, and you’re right, it goes against all our thousands of years of human programming, which tells us very clearly that if we find a warm safe place to hide out from the elements, we should stay put for as long as possible, until, that is, we get hungry, at which point, we’re going to need to venture out in search of food. The trouble is that because our warm safe place these days is home, where food is plentiful; we need never go outside at all.

That lovely warm feeling you get once you’ve been for a walk after an enormous Christmas lunch? THAT feeling is the golden one, where you’ve moved your body and cleared your mind. When you pick up a rake, or a spade, or a trowel, you not only get outside and clear your mind, but you maintain your outside space as well…BONUS! - it’s basically like going to the gym and when you get back you find that your garden has been tidied. Never has the hashtag #winwin been more apt.

So in the spirit of “I REALLLLY REALLLLLY REALLLLY don’t wanna go outside today, here are my top three, maximum payback, blow-out-the-cobwebs, I-am-a-total-god(DESS) five minute jobs for December. 

1. Rush out, pick up a trowel, pick a small piece of earth, or a couple of containers (whatever you’ve got) brush any leaves away, remove any weeds that you see, and chop off any unsightly dead stuff. Keep your eyes on this one spot, do NOT look at the rest of the garden or any of the other pots until you’ve finished this one area. Once you’ve finished, either go inside or (and this is the more likely scenario) move on to the next bit.

2. Get some bulbs (tulips, alliums, crocus, irises…whatever takes your fancy) and quickly plant as many as possible in five minutes, using either a bulb planter, or a trowel. Once you’ve finished, either go inside or (and this is the more likely scenario) plant some more bulbs.

3. Grab a broom and sweep your paths, or if you don’t have paths, sweep your patio, or your steps for five minutes. Pick up all the leaves and either scatter them between the plants in your flowerbeds or bag them up into a plastic bag, punch some holes into it and store it somewhere out of the way to make leaf mould.  Once you’ve finished, either go inside or (and this is the more likely scenario) do some more sweeping. 

Have a truly peaceful Christmas everyone...see you on the other side!

xx Laetitia

A gooseberry salsa...(sort-of)

 

Blogging food recipes has become a bit of a mind-game of late, and I'm fully blaming radio 4's brilliant comedy 'In and Out of the Kitchen', about a food writer, Damien Trench, who lives in Queen's Park with his partner Anthony, and who basically wants to BE Nigel Slater. His voice, when reciting his recipes is a  completely and perfectly crafted amalgam of all the food writers whose cook-books we started taking to bed and reading for pleasure way back when; that nonchalant 'just toss it in a large, shallow pan and anoint liberally with very best olive oil', peppered with sentences like 'You can, (and should) add lashings of best butter' etc. etc...

It is only when confronted with stuff like this that I realise how derivative my writing really is, and I look back and laugh, not at what I wrote, but the way in which I wrote it...not cringing exactly, just metaphorically patting my younger self on the head, telling her she was sweet to try, but look, you have your own voice you know.

Mark Diacono is one writer who doesn't suffer from copy-cat tendencies. His new book could only be crafted by him, and I am greedily gobbling it up. Quite apart from all the recipes, it is a treat to get inside Otter Farm, and really understand how it is laid out (there is a beautifully illustrated, useful map to show you where everything grows), and the story of how it all began.

Once again, I have gooseberries galore, from a bush, coincidentally bought from Otter Farm a couple of years ago. We like them raw in this family - even the small baby seems to relish the tartness, but there are always loads. Last year I did this relish, which was truly scrumptious, and I recommend it to anyone, but to celebrate this year's harvest, I made Mark's salsa...a recipe of which he claims he is 'indecently proud'.

Being me, I rushed the whole thing and read the ingredients of the salsa recipe and the method for the ensuing one, (for Gooseberry Sauce), directly underneath it, which begins with the always welcome words 'Put all the ingredients into a large pan'....this I did, getting rather excited about photographing the thing in its raw state, in the pan (i.e. thinking about the BLOG, rather than the actual recipe).

It did look very pretty indeed, but then I realised that half the ingredients are of course, supposed to be raw (it being a salsa and all). Hey ho.

So the result is NOT Mark's salsa at all, but a sort of half-cooked relish of sorts. The shallot is translucent rather than crisp and opaque. The lovage, mint and spring chives are a rather sludgy green rather than the emerald that they should be. The gooseberries are rather too squishy but my goodness it is bloody delicious. I'm having a hard time leaving it be until it can be paired with some smoked mackerel and a salad, like wot it tells me in the book...sorry Hunk.

A vase of Nigella

Nigella - one of those blooms that makes you feel like a professional photographer...impossible to take a bad photo of it. I have an abundance this year, thanks to my sowing a few plants two years ago, and being scandalously lax with the weeding etc. ever since.

Their beauty is that they spread, without asking permission, but never making a nuisance of themselves. The perfect party guest.

If you have none in your garden, then clear a bit of earth this autumn and get some seeds in. They need very little encouragement... a little thinning perhaps. They will flower, like these, next year, and you should cut lots, (for the bedroom I think...these are gloriously bedroomy blooms). Strip off the fennel-like leaves from each stem with a swipe of your fingers, and cut them short...(long is better as part of a big bodacious bunch, with other flowers). Leave a good half to go to seed (they are the most beauteous of seed heads, and then do nothing, letting the seeds fall and start the process again without your lifting a finger - that's my kind of gardening.

My little jug was a wedding present, from and by Annabel Ridley engraved with important information about some of my favourite plants:

Lavender 'shall breathe forth the breath of Heaven'

Sage 'for domestic virtue'

Rosemary 'for remembrance and friendship'

Marjoram 'joy of the mountains'

Thyme 'like dawn in paradise' (Kipling)

Hyacinth 'for the feeding of the soul'

Fennel 'for strength, courage and longevity'

Chelsea 2014: Highlights

It was hot and sweaty...the kind of weather in which a lady in a corset would swoon. Luckily I was not in my corset yesterday...but I do want to salute the high-heeled brigade; extremely impressive...I am in awe.

The judges have their criteria, but I know nothing of that.

Here are my top ten Chelsea snapshots...views that made me go oooh; ideas I want to steal; things that I won't forget in a hurry.

Mini lawns, minus the mowing

 

The weather has turned, and I need to mow, but it's too wet, so I'm satisfying my need for a tidy sword indoors with some Chamomile (added benefit...it has the most delicious appley smell).

Here's how to do it, and some other ideas for indoor lawns.

There are men in my garden...

...they have been busy doing things for a while.

First they dug a hole.

I've noticed that generally, men love to dig holes. Just look at them closely next time you pass some road-works. They have a good dig, and then they straighten up and admire the hole they've made. They often chat about the hole to their mates, and point to different bits of it (different bits of a void). The two men in my garden are no different. They took enormous care with their hole. And I had to admit, when they'd finished, that it really was very, very beautiful.

Then they started mixing cement.

They shovelled sand into their mixer, and added water, and they carefully poured the cement into their hole - not all in one go, but very carefully, in sections, making sure it was perfectly level (with a tiny, imperceptible drop, for drainage). This took effort and time, and great skill. They smiled while they worked, smoothing the cement with a long, thin piece of wood, balancing expertly on their haunches, like landing acrobats, or someone in the jungle with a javelin, stalking prey...all this with squinty eyes, and a perpetual roll-up, poking out of their mouths.

Then they began laying bricks.

London stock - soft pink with apricot undertones. They worked from the centre, using taut string for guidance, and a spirit level on each and every brick, checking and re-checking. They stopped regularly for tea and cigarettes, and to eat over-processed sandwiches - a few words exchanged between them - always looking at the work, always surveying the next bit. Once dry, they began brushing sand between the bricks, painstakingly poking it and packing it tight into every crevice with palette knives. Squinty eyes. Cigarettes.

Then they began the wall.

It's a tricky job, to create a retaining wall that slopes with the natural contours of the garden, melting down at the bottom, into nothing (well, lawn, and  bulbs). The top of the wall must be sit-on-able, with each brick on its side. Many of them must be cut to size. Each one must be examined...mulled over...thought about. Slop of cement, tap tap tap, spirit level, tap tap, squinty eyes, cigarettes. The sun comes out, and Babety gets home from school. She runs past them and jumps on the trampoline, waving at them. They wave back. They leave at 5pm. I wait for them to go, and rush into the garden and stroke the bricks, marvelling at the men, and their skill, and the joy of watching something slowly materialising out of nothing. I think about the value of repetition...Tap tap tap. Spirit level. Tap tap, repeat.

The last leg appears.

I suddenly have the urge to feed them, these men who never speak, and just smoke and smile and tap and slop. I buy sausage rolls. Big ones, from a posh butcher. I hand them over; "for you" I say, gesticulating wildly, pointing at my mouth. They smile at me indulgently, mutter thanks, and turn back to their work. At last the central stone is cut. I had originally wanted an old piece of  York stone, but time was not on my side, and we ended up pilfering from the terrace (which will go someday soon). It looks perfect. It is flat. We can put a fire bowl on it. I am in raptures. They leave as quickly and quietly as they appeared, removing all the rubbish to reveal flattened, yellowed lawn beneath, and I rather miss them. It is only when I wave my thanks, that I realise not a single sentence has been exchanged between us.

And now it's my turn.

I've been digging hard, removing many stones, and planning my assault of plants. It will soften, and make the circle recede (or at least, this is what I hope it will do). I am enjoying having a flat space to put my cup of tea. It will be a space for eating and drinking, and for plonking oneself. There will be cushions aplenty. I am ridiculously happy about my circle of bricks.

Agapanthus 101

 How to grow Agapanthus

My first day off yesterday, in just short of a year, and I got to spend it ogling at pretty flowers with the marvellous Debora who lunches with me irregularly, and shares my passion for extremely bad television.

We were at the RHS Spring Show - that vast hall, with the concentrated scent of new fresh growth, punctuated by narcissi, hyacinth, mimosa...depending on where you are standing.

I am a sucker for spring...I cannot tell you how many bluer-than-blue corydalis, whiter-than-white anemones; how many tiny pots of scented pelargoniums I have bought at these shows - they totally see me coming. This year I was utterly sidetracked though, by Agapanthus. Hoyland Plant Centre, who hold the National Collection of Agapanthus, had a stand, complete with a lovely, geeky table explaining the different stages of growth, and (crucially) small plants in 9cm pots, and divided sections of larger plants, which I can actually afford.

We went upstairs and sat down to listen to Steve give a talk on Agapanthus, and, as usual, I learned more from this twenty minute question and answer session than I'd gleaned from years of reading books or internet. One person with a passion, who knows his subject inside out and is able to explain it in plain English - the whole audience was rapt.

Here, in a nutshell, is what I learned.

There are two different types of Agapanthus. Deciduous and Evergreen. Deciduous are hardy pretty much everywhere. Evergreen need to be in the south (or see below for methods of protection).

Compost.

Needs to be well-drained. Steve uses two parts ordinary multi-purpose mixed with one part sharp sand or grit. Treat them mean. Too many nutrients will produce leaves and no flowers. (see below for fertiliser)

 Root restriction.

The rumours are true; these plants like their roots restricted at first. This helps the rhizome to form and bulk up, allowing for flowering. Obviously they therefore do well in pots. Here is the kind of pot-bound-ness that is perfect for an agapanthus. Don't re-pot until this level is achieved.

Here's a plant that is too pot-bound and needs re-potting:

If you want to plant in the ground and the roots are not yet congested enough, sink them inside a pot with the bottom removed.

 Feeding.

Feed regularly with a high potash feed (that's the 'K', or Potassium in your 'NPK' fertiliser; their feed is 30% potash) from March to September. This will encourage flowering.

 Winter care.

Give containers a really good soaking in November, buy a bag of bark chippings and mound them over the crown of the plant (in amongst the leaves if it's evergreen) and, if you can move them, bring them inside somewhere frost-free (evergreen will need light, deciduous won't) for the winter. If you can't move them, wrap the container with bubble wrap and then the whole thing with fleece. If you're in a sheltered area you'll get away without doing this, but if your plant is super-precious to you, then Steve says you should do it anyway.

In the border, just use bark chippings and mound them up over the buds.

 Dividing

Use a knife that's an appropriate size for whatever you're chopping. Steve likes his meat-cleaver. He also uses one of those Nigella-type mezzaluna things for smaller plants. He looks rather better than Nigella wielding the thing. It is a sight to behold. Sorry I didn't get a picture.

Hack away...these plants are tough, but if you are using something serrated, then be sure to shave the cut with a knife afterwards so that the wound can heal cleanly (it's the difference between having a clean cut and a graze on your skin - clean cuts heal better and quicker. Leave the pieces to heal over for 24 hours before re-planting in the compost above. If you're re-planting in the ground then you don't need to do the plastic pot trick if the plant has flowered the previous year and has flower-buds on it - the rhizome is sufficiently bulky.

Here is the inimitable Steve with some of his cleavers. 

I have a container-grown agapanthus that I've neglected for years and hasn't flowered for the last two or three. It's so pot-bound that it's pushing itself out of the container. I was about it release it from its pot, chop it up and re-plant in the border, but Steve says I should re-pot it first in a larger pot, feed and mollycoddle it for another year, and then chop it up, once it's flowering again - invaluable advice, brilliantly delivered.

I bought a beautiful chunk of Agapanthus praecox from Hoyland - an evergreen that I'm going to put with all my other agapanthus  in a special new bed I'm creating....updates soon.